


insert shotgun pun here

by grangerbutstranger



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 5+1 Things, Bickering, Boats and Ships, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Dialogue Heavy, Driving, Friendship Bracelets, Gen, Humor, Inappropriate Behavior, Justin Bieber - Freeform, M/M, Nicknames, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Road Trips, Team Bonding, Timeline What Timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 00:36:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14884253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grangerbutstranger/pseuds/grangerbutstranger
Summary: Five times an Avenger told Bucky they would turn this vehicle around (and one time they actually did).





	insert shotgun pun here

**Author's Note:**

  * For [soaringrachel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soaringrachel/gifts).



> soaringrachel wanted this. usually i'd just email it to her and continue my years-long streak of not actually posting any of the insomnia-fueled mcu fic i've accidentally written. but since this one a) is actually finished and b) has her approval, i have decided to seize the opportunity to tag something "justin bieber" on ao3.

**i. VW bug**

“Wasn’t punchbuggy enough for you idiots?” Steve grumbles during hour six of the drive.

“If you were stuck back here you’d be an asshole too,” Bucky says flatly. “There’s not enough amnesia in the world that I wouldn’t know that.”

Sam stubbornly does not smile as he fiddles with the radio.

“Besides,” Bucky adds, “There were cows.”

“It was all the same group of them,” Steve argues. “Herd? Do cows come in herds?”

“It’s amazing to me what a city boy you really are,” Sam says.

“Is it?” Bucky mutters, probably just to be contrary. “Never used to shut up about it.”

“It is,” Sam says, “for someone who’s always threatening to move to a farm in the midwest and never speak to any of us again.”

Steve rolls his eyes so hard the car almost swerves. “I’ve never said that.”

“It’s the subtext of so many things you do say, though,” he replies.

“The point is,” Steve says, catching Bucky’s eye in the rearview mirror, “I really don’t think you have to scream, ‘COW!’ once for each individual one you see. Much less make it a competition. What are you even winning?”

Sam and Bucky’s reproach is obvious without looking away from the road. The radio sings in clipped, angry bursts between rounds of static, and the silence starts to feel nearly soothing after several minutes of obstinate tension. Steve lets his shoulders relax as he watches the landscape slowly changing around the highway ahead.

“HORSE!” Bucky shouts, and Steve’s head nearly hits the ceiling.

“I will turn this car around,” he says. “I will let those other Winter Soldiers start a goddamn war, Bucky.”

Sam snorts. Steve checks the mirror and feels a twinge in his chest when he sees Bucky crack a tiny smile.

“Cow,” Bucky says next, at a shockingly reasonable volume.

“Fuck you,” Sam says, equally softly.

 

**ii. Wakandan jet**

“Justin made some questionable choices,” Shuri offers, “but I still think Selena belongs with him, and I think she knows it. Love isn’t rational, you know?”

“There’s no accounting for taste,” Bucky agrees.

“Speaking from experience?” T’Challa asks from the cockpit. He laughs at Bucky’s furrowed eyebrows.

“I’ve never tried to adopt an exotic pet in a foreign country,” he says. “Speaking of which, I still haven't seen a real panther here. False advertising, Your Majesty.”

“No, no,” T’Challa says steadily, making a much more impressive show of placating him than Bucky is of sarcastic complaining. “It was your taste I was questioning, not your behavior.”  
  
“Hey,” Bucky says, pouting. “What’s that supposed to mean?

“I think the monkey was a one-time lapse in judgment, even for Bieber,” Shuri assures them.

T’Challa sighs, world-weary, and says, “What about Anne Frank?”

“The comment was tactless,” she allows. “But he wasn’t wrong, was he? She probably would have been a fan.”

“Only if we proceed from the notion that time is not linear,” T’Challa points out.

“It isn’t,” Shuri says, utterly confident.

“So he’s a singer, right?” Bucky clarifies, looking less offended now, if slightly more worried. “Is he any good? What about her? Is she good?”

“Let’s start with his early hits,” Shuri says with a businesslike adjustment of her Kimoyo beads. The opening notes of “Baby” blast at them in surround sound. T’Challa grimaces, but says nothing.

“I don’t hate it,” Bucky admits as the song goes on, eyeing both of them warily, probably for different reasons. “What about the later stuff?”

“I will turn this jet around,” T’Challa warns.

“Fine,” Shuri snaps. She shuts the music off. “We’ll move on. What do you know about the Kardashians?”

 

**iii. speedboat**

“I get seasick sometimes,” Clint confesses to Bucky, as though it wasn’t already obvious from his facial expression or the nervous tremor in his voice. “I’ll try not to throw up on you.”

“You won’t throw up on me,” Bucky says.

“I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

“That was a threat,” Natasha informs him. Without letting go of the wheel, she manages to crane her neck to level each of them with a glare. They only claim to be immune to that. “No one murders each other before we get back, okay? This is not that kind of boat trip.”

“Hey,” Clint says, “that gives me a great idea. Maybe when we get the weapons, we just dump ‘em overboard instead of schlepping all the way to meet Steve. I doubt anyone would find them.”

“No,” Bucky and Natasha say in unison.

“Fine, fine. It was just a suggestion,” he mumbles.

“You’ll be okay,” Nat assures him. She visibly checks the coordinates again for Clint’s comfort, even though she’s sure of her course. “The drop off’s not that far. We should be there by dawn.”

“It’s just, you know, no offense, Nat, but I always figured if I got killed on a mission, Cap would at least yell at whoever was in charge. But if it’s you two? I’m out of luck.”

“Clint,” Natasha says, affectionate and amused. “Everything’s been fine so far. Calm down.”

“I’ve been out of the field too long for this,” he complains. “I don’t have to shoot anything on a boat on a regular basis these days. And in my household, I’m usually not the one throwing up on an old man.”

Bucky crosses his arms and lounges menacingly. “Isn’t your whole thing perfect aim? That’s why we brought you, right? Use it.”

“Natasha,” Clint whines.

“I’m not gonna kill you,” Bucky adds with a little wave. His hand glints in the moonlight. “I’d just punch you. I’d even use the normal arm if I thought you really couldn’t help it.”

“Boys,” Natasha says, smiling through her stern tone. “I will turn this boat around.”

“Yes, please,” Clint says. “I’d love that.”

“And then take the scenic route.”

“Once we get the guns, go ahead,” Bucky says, grinning.

 

**iv. minivan**

“What’s your favorite reptile?” Cassie asks. “Mine’s an iguana.”

“I like Komodo dragons,” Bucky says thoughtfully.

“Great choice,” Scott says from the passenger seat. “I’m more of a turtle man, myself, though.”

“Who’s your favorite Beatle?” Cassie tries.

“I wasn’t really around for them.”

“Neither was she,” says Scott. “Why do you ask, Cassie?”

“I just figured adults mostly only had opinions about old stuff,” she shrugs. “So did you really used to be a Russian assassin?”

“Cassie,” Hope interrupts from the driver’s seat. “Why don’t we pause the interrogation a minute so your dad and Sergeant Barnes and I can finally talk about the mission?”

“He said to call him Bucky,” Cassie corrects, and the icy preteen hostility in her voice sends a shiver down every adult spine.

“And Shuri said it was very important that we all go over the plan together,” Hope says. Scott chuckles at the measured annoyance in her voice, but she’s holding her own.

“Can we go see Shuri later?” Cassie pleads.

“We’ll see her when we drop Bucky off tomorrow,” Scott says.

“You can’t stay longer?” Cassie asks sadly. “But I like you. You’re nice and your arm is pretty.”

“Thanks,” Bucky says. She beams.

“What’s your favorite ice cream?” she asks him.

“What is this, a BuzzFeed quiz?” Hope whispers Scott. He shrugs happily.

“They’re icebreakers,” answers Cassie. “For when you want to get to know someone.”

“You’ve never asked Hope most of this stuff,” Scott points out, “so how would she know that?”

“I guess,” says Cassie.

“I don’t think I’ve tried all the flavors of ice cream they have now,” Bucky offers. “I’ll get back to you.”

“Are you really best friends with Captain America?”

“Yeah.”

“Officially?”

“What does that mean?” he asks.

“Well, do you have friendship bracelets?” she presses.

“No.”

Cassie gasps, scandalized.

Scott shakes his head and holds up his keys. “Sorry to say it, but she’s right. Luis and I have friendship keychains, look.”

Hope groans. “We have a job, here, you know.”

“I’m going to make you and Captain America friendship bracelets,” Cassie declares. “But they have to be pink and blue because I don’t have any red.”

“I don’t know if Steve really wears bracelets,” Bucky says.

“Call him and ask!” Cassie demands.

“Not right now,” Hope tells them just as Scott says, “That’s a great idea. Then we can all talk to Captain America!”

Bucky looks between them, hesitating, but when Cassie nudges his arm, he dials anyway. “Uh, hey Steve, Scott’s daughter wants to know if she can make us friendship bracelets.”

“Put him on speaker!” says Scott.

“Scott,” Hope says tightly. “I’m already chauffeuring you through rush hour traffic.”

“But it’s _Cap_ ,” he insists.

“Sorry,” Bucky mouths at Hope’s mirror. She lifts her mouth on one side, not quite relenting enough for Scott to call her on it.

“I will turn this van around,” she mutters, but it’s clearly a losing battle.

“Well, that depends. Can she make them for Sam and Nat too?” Steve’s voice says through Bucky’s phone. Cassie cheers.

 

**v. quinjet**

“Both of you are named James,” Thor asks, “but neither answers to it?”

“I’ll answer to almost anything,” Bucky tells him. “Doesn’t mean I always like it.”

“You prefer Bucky,” Thor says, nodding his understanding. “But Rhodes prefers Jim in certain contexts?”

“Yeah,” says Rhodey. He looks up from the controls and points at Bucky behind him. “Rhodey is fine, but it, uh, started out as kind of a joke about this guy, actually.”

“It did?” Bucky leans forward, looking downright gleeful. “Really?”

“Tony Stark has always had a complex relationship with the legacy of Captain America,” Rhodey tells him, trying to sound diplomatic. Bucky makes a gesture that he can’t quite see. Judging by Thor’s booming laugh, it’s obscene. Rhodey feels safe enough in that assumption to say, “Not what I meant, Barnes.”

“You sure about that?” Bucky asks. Rhodey doesn’t dignify it with a response, though he privately thinks the skepticism is probably warranted.

“I couldn’t imagine being called Odie, for Odinson,” Thor states, still stuck on the same subject. “I certainly wouldn’t prefer it.”

“Yeah, well,” Bucky says. “Your name’s Thor. It sounds cool.”

“And it isn’t all that common, so that seems reasonable,” Rhodey adds.

“On the contrary,” Thor counters. “I knew several other Thors in my youth. Just as our band of heroes includes multiple Peters and Stevens.”

“It would be more confusing if we had more than one Thor,” Rhodey says. “I can’t really picture you with a nickname either.”

“It would have to be the other Thor who adopted one,” Thor agrees.

“What if he said the same thing?” Bucky asks. “Would we have to call you Thor O.?”

“No. I would challenge him.”

“To a fight?”

“Of course,” Thor says, as if that sounds like an everyday occurrence.

“To the death?” Bucky asks, intrigued.

“No,” Rhodey interrupts. “No, Thor, under no circumstances would you ever challenge another Avenger to a fight to the death, right?”

“Don’t listen to him,” Bucky says. “I know you missed the whole thing, but Tony totally tried to fight me and Steve to the death.”

“Bucky,” Rhodey sighs. “Those were unusual circumstances. You know that.”

“He still tried to kill me,” Bucky protests.

“I mean, he’s a bad example to follow. I think we can all agree on that.”

“I would prefer a more symbolic challenge, regardless,” Thor assures them. “Perhaps one of your Midgardian games. Like poker. Or arm wrestling.”

“Not exactly what I’d call a fight.” Bucky says. He sounds vaguely disappointed.

“You’ve never arm wrestled an Asgardian, I take it?”

“In that case,” he says with a grin that Thor mirrors immediately, “can I?”

Rhodey puts the plane on autopilot, just to be safe, and spins around in his chair. “I will turn this quinjet around, you two. I swear.”

“No matter,” Thor says, eyeing Bucky’s vibranium arm with a gleam in his eye. “There will be plenty of time after we land.”

 

**\+ i. rental car**

“Remember to use your turn signal,” Sam instructs. “Then you just slightly…yeah, great job. Feel how smooth that was? Now make sure you keep up with the speed limit when you’re in the left lane. Don’t drive like Stark, but don’t hold up traffic, got it?”

“Yeah, I got it, I think,” Peter says, nodding quickly, gaze still pointed forward with remarkable dedication. “Thanks, Sam. This is really great of you. Aunt May doesn’t even have her license, and Mr. Stark’s cars are way too fancy for me, so I don’t get a lot of time to practice, you know? It’s very helpful.”

“No worries, man. You’re doing good,” Sam says. “You’re gonna ace that test.” He smiles. Peter barely glances to see it, so this is going great.

“ _Bucky_ ,” Steve suddenly hisses from the back seat.

Sam’s smile abruptly drops. “Peter, keep your eyes on the road,” he says. He braces himself before looking into the rearview mirror. “Barnes. What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m trying to give Steve a hickey,” he says, like that’s a perfectly reasonable response. “It’s not as easy as it sounds, with his stupid healing factor.”

“You’re… That’s what you’ve decided to do right now? Really? While we’re giving a driving lesson to a minor?” Sam asks, a model of calm restraint, if he does say so himself.

“Yeah,” says Bucky.

“Why, exactly, is that?” Sam asks.

“The kid’s getting a driver’s license in New York City,” Bucky says, again with all the air of a satisfactory explanation.

“I know,” Sam agrees. He’s very proud of Peter’s intent focus on the windshield, even if the kid’s eyes have gone comically wide.

“So do you have any idea how many other teenagers he’s gonna have to shuttle around who barely know what a car is and wanna do worse than this when they’re in one?” Bucky says. “This is important practice, Wilson. Not to mention when the other Avengers—”

“Bucky,” Steve says again sternly. Bucky smirks and nuzzles under his ear, and Sam has to look away.

“I’m counting to three, and then your seatbelt better be back on and your hands where I can see them.”

“What? Where were they before?” Peter squeaks. “He didn’t say anything about hands.”

“He’s exaggerating, kid,” Steve says, just barely too breathy to trust. “Don’t, hm, worry about it.”

“Are they even, like…” Peter whispers to Sam. “A thing? I mean, cool if they are, good for them and stuff, just, I didn’t know. Or is he, like, trolling us?”

“Barnes,” Sam says loudly, deciding not to try to answer that question, because he’s honestly never been sure. “One.”

“You’re not the boss of me,” Bucky says.

“Two.”

“He kind of is, on this mission,” Steve points out. “Oh my God, Bucky, there is a _child_ present, what the hell?”

“Three,” Sam says, and turns around in his seat to lock eyes with Steve, who blushes and self-consciously runs a hand through his hair, and then Bucky, who holds up his hands, all innocence. Sam nods at them. “Thank you.”

He settles back into his seat just in time to hear a suspiciously wet sound.

“They’re kissing, aren’t they?” Peter asks quietly. “Dude. Is this what your life is like all the time?”

“Why don’t you just take the next exit?” Sam says.

 

 

THE END.


End file.
